Avenger of the Hand
by Snowfel
Summary: Thrawn survived. But he suffered a major injury which caused him to live in a vegetative state for almost a decade. Brought back to Empire of the Hand territory, he has been left none the wiser of the galaxy's state at large. But alas, the time for waiting is over. Now, is the time for a return. And an artist's return has to be grand and artistic! AU around 19 ABY Thrawn Duology
1. Prologue -- first part

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing written on this whole story, except my OC's. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Massive thanks goes to George Lucas for creating a whole new universe full of incredible things we love!_**

_Hello there! First of all, this is my first attempt at writing a long fic; nope, it could also be said as my first ever attempt to write a serious fic! The idea for this fic was greatly influenced by the game Star Wars: Empire at War Forces of Corruption expansion, modded with the Thrawn's Revenge mod. Huge shoutout to Corey for creating the mod; I enjoyed each and every single moment playing your mod! Actually, I started thinking about the idea one sleepless night; and because I was restless on that particular night, I decided to get up from my bed and open up my laptop. I started typing, and suddenly this comes into fruitition._

_I've planned the story to go well a long way, with many arcs in between; I've already plotted the major events, but I want to say that I'm very open to suggestions; each and every single one will be considered. Any review is greatly appreciated! I would love to know where I lack, where I can improve, so that I can create better work in the future!_

Chapter 1

Deep, and dark. One might think that these days the blackness of space screams the word 'secure' to most New Republic personnel; the garrison stationed above Byss amongst the staunchest supporters of that feeling of security. What could one expect? Located close to the Core, and especially close to Coruscant and with a big shipyard capable of producing capital ships, it is well protected with the most cutting-edge defense armaments many worlds can only dream of. Please, we're not only talking about massive Golan defense armaments here, we're also taking into account the best that the Republic has to offer manning each and every one of the battlestations responsible for defending the planet.

Logically speaking, planet-wise, Byss itself serves little to no purpose to the Republic, except that it is a world whose shipyards can produce some of the most powerful capital ships the Republic so desperately needed in the past years. Nowadays, the shipyards aren't so needed anymore, and production capability is not forced to work overdrive as it was. The threat of Isard has long been quashed, for good. Ever since the battle of Bilbringi, nothing has been heard of the late Grand Admiral Thrawn. The Reborn Emperor's laboratory in said planet has also been retrofitted as a medical laboratory, and with the New Jedi Order under the wings of Grandmaster Luke Skywalker thriving, the galaxy has never seen better days in more than 5 decades.

Or so they all thought.

_19th ABY, aboard the Imperial II Star Destroyer Archgriffin, a little micro-jump from Byss_

"Status report, Captain."

The deep voice of the figure in white and grey uniform could be heard inside the whole bridge. A voice that the galaxy has not heard for more than a decade; a voice that will strike true fear in the hearts of his adversaries.

"Everything is going according to plan, my Lord. Shields are operating at maximum capacity, and ballistics are charged to fire as soon as we made the calibration," a female Chiss aide reported.

In the blackness and nothingness of space, a fleet of 3 Imperial II Star Destroyers and an escort of 2 Ascendancy Class Destroyer floated nearby, weapons charged to the maximum. Add to that fleet 5 Victory I Star Destroyers, all of their proton torpedo launchers pointed to the nothingness ahead of them.

"Prepare the clandestine hyperdrives inside those launchers. Do a last minute calibration, and prepare to fire on my mark."

"As you wish, Sir," the aide replied.

As soon as the orders were made, all of the proton torpedo launchers altered their positions just a few degrees; indeed, even an error of 0.3 degrees in calculation, when tracked over a distance of more than a parsec, would deviate greatly from the mark. No, there can be nothing less than perfection on an grand operation of this scale.

"Belay that order; I would like to change the plan a little bit. Tell me, Captain, is it true that the person in charge of the defenses above Byss is a Mon Calamari?"

"According to our latest intel, sir, the person in charge of the defenses is General Dolhall, a young human male. That was 3 days ago, and we have no reason to believe otherwise," the Captain replied.

"Ah, but something in the back of my mind keeps nagging that the General is actually just a substitute. Think about it, Captain. Why would the Republic put a young man, a _human_ at that, to be in charge of a heavily-defended space? No, I felt that the person in charge of that planet's defenses must be someone competent; not Ackbar, that's too much of an overkill; but a Mon Calamari nonetheless. They are some of the finest specimens capable of tactical thinking. Remember, our adversaries has this strange energy known only as the Force aiding them. I have firsthand experience on how disastrous it was to ignore that factor. And knowing the capabilities of the Mon Calamamaries, I believe we're running out of time."

The Captain did not reply to that statement. With both hands clasped in front of his face, the Chiss-in-command started to think.

"Captain, I want to reposition our formation. The _Archgriffin _is to be the spearhead, with two of our Victory Destroyers on our flanks. The other capital ships will form a wedge formation along with us. Make it so that the rest of our Victories are aligned in the middle of the formation; higher in bearing than the rest of the fleet. Let it be that everything behind us is obstructed from view, and turn on the sensory disruptor fields as soon as we jump in. Do it immediately, and tell the captains of the Victories to re-calibrate their bearings. I want them to target the shield generators and torpedoes of all the static defense armaments there. They are to fire only one volley on my first mark; wait for no more than 20 seconds, then fire a quarter from all of our fleet's worth of torpedoes afterwards. Then, and only then, shall we empty our current proton torpedo load. Afterwards, reload and prepare the fleet to make the microjump."

"As you wish, Sir," the Captain replied. In her line of work, and also under his line of command, it is extremely unwise to question the decision of the leader. Over the years, she has learned to trust her superior; not blindly, but smartly. And it is always a smart decision to trust this particular superior. It couldn't be otherwise, as the Empire of the Hand has never produced a strategist and tactician as brilliant as her superior in all of its glorious history. That was saying a lot; as the average commander in the Hand outclassed even the top majority of the New Republic.

"All ships in formation, Sir," the Captain reported.

"Good. Prepare to fire on my mark. On three... two..."


	2. Prologue -- second part

Chapter 2

Jedi Master Cilghal sighed at the report of the defenses above Byss. It was only three days since she substituted General Dolhall to command the defenses of the planet. Put it simply, categorizing the General as an incompetent is a great understatement. Not only does the formation of defenses inefficient, he has been slacking in showing a commanding presence. The nerves! How could someone like him be entrusted to defend a planet, let alone hold the rank of General? Politics is at play here, a game which she has left many years ago. But alas, musing and bickering over the past is not a Jedi way. These three days has not been easy on her; with the Force almost constantly nagging her danger senses, she has been stiff and restless for a long time.

It was a time of great peace for the New Republic. With the horrors of war long past, people has been slacking off, not excepted those in charge of the military. Admiral Ackbar has finally retired, after a long career full of incredible service. Cilghal could bet with certainty that her uncle is currently enjoying a good debate with a student from the Coruscant Admiralty Academy. It was actually a good thing, because he would go absolutely nuts if he's told to 'enjoy' his old age catching fishes on the shores of Mon Calamari. Ah, good days indeed.

Some would see Cilghal's life as bland, living a monastic Jedi life. But it was far from it; a Jedi's life is always full of adventure, and it always brought about amazing lessons for those fortunate enough to be granted sensitivity in the Force. Those adventure, in turn, brought about the much-needed experience in times of war, and those wartime horrors are what made Cilghal what she was; an excellent Jedi Master, a budding Commander. She has been forced into a commanding role more than she can count, how could she not be, as a Jedi living in a galaxy rife with conflict. The Emperor's evil has not been fully quashed after his death after all.

But those very experiences are what made Cilghal who she is; a Jedi Master capable of commanding forces; a formidable foe for even the best commanders. While she did not inherit the tactical brilliance of her late uncle, she is still a Mon Calamari; hailed as one of the finest species capable of highly skilled tactical abilities. What she lacked in the skills of command, she made up with the Force. Imagine a tactical brilliance almost rivaling that of Ackbar, with a nearly accurate future premonitions. Even Grand Admiral Thrawn would have pissed his pants off!

Ah, alas, those thoughts are really unbecoming of a Jedi Master and ex-senator. True, a little joke here and there is acceptable, but one must not do so under every circumstances. Unfortunately, this particular circumstance calls for a serious mind.

_Aboard the Golan III Defense Armament 'The Viscount'_

"Master Jedi, the Golan defense armaments has successfully been repositioned. As for now, there are no further complications, and nearly all of our other armaments are in position. Any further orders?" a human male with a Commander insignia reported.

"Thank you, Commander. Prepare all of the armaments to charge up our shields, and after that, turn on our long-range sensor detectors."

As the second in command, the Commander has _no _idea why the previous General has deemed it unnecessary to activate them. That being said, turning them on while repositioning the defenses would create a big mess out of the sensors; creating false alarms all the way round. Truly, the previous General is much more suited to work on administrative desks rather than sitting on the command chair. Waste of good genes, his father made a terrible mistake on not pulling out at the definitive moment. But all in all, the Commander Ra'as is extremely grateful that the General's substitute is not only a competent leader, but a Jedi Master on top of all that! Words alone can't even express the honor of being able to serve abroad with such an exalted being. Although one thing has been troubling him for some time; Jedi are famous for their premonitions, even more so for those who has attained the rank of Jedi Master. It has only been less than 3 standard days that Jedi Master Cilghal has been sent here, and not even once has Ra'as seen her relaxed.

"You're right to be worried, Commander Ra'as. I have a bad feeling about this; the whole fiasco. I believe that something is about to happen; sooner than later. Although, the little repositioning and optimization of our defenses formation has put me a little at ease, I still couldn't shake off this nagging feeling that something will happen, sooner or later."

Blast it. He totally forgot that Jedi are experts at mind-reading, and until now Ra'as never thought that he broadcasted his thoughts so loudly.

"Worry not, Commander, it is something natural to me; I did not tune myself to read your thoughts, it's just that we're both tired, and we all can't control our thoughts when we are tired. I will get some rest, and you too, Lieutenant; that's an order."

"As you wish, Ma'am. Lieutenant Ra'as out," he spoke with a salute.

"Oh, please, don't be so formal in front of me. Jedi don't hold ranks; we all serve the people!"

"Never thought, otherwise, Ma'am, never thought..."

Suddenly, the long-range scanners blared a high-pitch whining noise, and the station's intercom buzzed to life.

"We're under attack!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Out of nowhere, a cluster of proton torpedoes suddenly appeared in the vicinity of the planet's defense armaments. Almost immediately, Cilghal used the Force to turn on the general command communications station.

"Jedi Master Cilghal here! Activate the point-defense laser system! Commander, calculate the trajectory of the torpedoes; determine their targets!"

"On it, Ma'am!" Ra'as barked.

Suddenly, the relative calm and peace aboard the station turned into systematic chaos. Haphazard liquids were spread all over the floor, as personnel on break time ran to quickly reach their stations. It was a flurry of activity, with technicians literally punched their stations and officers of all ranks monitored the station's status.

"Ma'am, they're targeting our shield generators and torpedo launchers!" Commander Ra'as literally shouted to the Jedi Master in command.

"Status report on our shields!" Cilghal barked.

"Our shields hasn't been fully operational! It is currently charging, at 32% of peak capacity!" A technician reported.

"All laser point defense system batteries, prepare to fire as soon as they reached your range!" Ra'as ordered.

"Belay that order! Commander Ra'as, this volley is a bait! Our shields can still hold them, but should they fired off another volley, we are toast! All gun batteries to prepare firing _after_ this volley! Commander, status report on the fleet currently orbiting the system!"

"As you wish, Ma'am. Do not fire now; I repeat, do not fire now, let our shield absorb this volley! Ma'am, there are currently 8 MC90 class Capital Ship at our command, complete with 6 Nebulon-B Frigates as escorts! The closest relieve force is many light-years away, and it may take more than 8 hours for them to reach us!" The Commander reported.

"8 hours on which we might already be razed to the atmosphere. Commander, prepare one of the MC90's. We're boarding it. I'm taking command of the whole fleet. Double time it!"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

It was incredibly bizarre that a cluster of proton torpedoes can come out of nowhere without any ships firing it. Surely, it takes a miracle for it to happen; even the Force can't do that.

"While we're preparing the ship, I want the long-range scanner to scan the perimeter surrounding this entire system." Cilghal ordered.

The first volley has successfully found their marks; scattered circular blue energy could be seen, as the shields dissipates the heat of the torpedoes evenly.

"Shields down to 23%, Ma'am! Other stations are also reporting less than 30% shields operational!" One of the station's officer barked.

"Dully noted, Corporal! Keep re-charging the shields! I want them at as much power as possible for the next volley!"

True to her words, the first volley was indeed only a bait. No more than 30 seconds after the first volley hit, a bigger cluster of missiles came out of the same nothingness. The Commander was impressed; who could have thought that?

"All laser point defense system, open fire as soon as the torpedoes come in range! Prioritize those targeting the shield generator!" Cilghal ordered. All the while, the MC90 Cruiser '_Hope' _has docked behind the _Viscount._

"Initiating docking procedures." The station's AI buzzed through the chaos. "Keep me posted on the long range scanner's results! Commander Ra'as, come with me!" Cilghal started to run for the docking airlock.

Inside the corridors of the stations, everybody can feel the shaking as some of the torpedoes made it past the defenses. Again, circular blue energy could be seen as the shields absorbed the worst of the damage.

"Shields down to 20%!"

By now, Cilghal has finally reached the _Hope _and is currently waiting inside the turbolift alongside Commander Ra'as.

"Status report on the long range scanners."

"Ma'am, we're detecting a larger wave of torpedo clusters! It's 4 times bigger than the second volley! ETA to contact is 15 seconds!"

Cilghal suddenly lost her balance. How could she be so blind? Both of the first and second volleys were baits; they were checkmates. Whoever the enemy is right now, they are competent. Highly competent. Ignore the first volley, and you get damaged a little. Ignore the second, and your stations will be unshielded for the whole battle. Take care of the second, and the defense system won't be able to recharge before contact. All move proves to be devastating for her side; and she happens to choose the most devastating one. The third volley, with four times the strength of the second, would surely put not only the shields out of commission but also the their torpedoes; their only long-range weapons. They might as well be sitting ducks here without them.

With slumped shoulders and drooped eyes, the Mon Calamari Jedi Master whispered; broadcasted to every single channel on the fleet;

"It's a trap..."


End file.
